Okay, so about a month ago, I shared with you how my husband (The Remix) and I disagree on what it means when the gas light goes on in our car. His take is that it's really more of a suggestion while I proceed to sweat, bite my nails and essentially lose my mind.
Then, two weeks after our most recent Gas Light Domestic, The Remix came home and told me that he was late because he had
ignored my legitimate point of view run out of gas on the highway.
This weekend marks our annual Cup Competition, where 12 of us are going to be running around like crazy people, playing games that originate from whatever stock our local dollar stores can offer. It's super fun (obviously, I'll be posting about it after) and what's even MORE fun is The Remix's brother decided to drive from Ontario to participate. He arrived last night, after spending 13 hours in the car (what a trouper) and along with his supplies, he brought a few things from his parents.
And what was one of those things?
So if I wasn't already in love with my Mother-in-Law, let's just say that this sealed the deal. Not only did I marry an amazing man, but also got the bonus of a few extra people who know a razz-able topic when they see one. Even when it's their own son.
Nicely done, MIL, nicely done.